The first time I walked through the Tailrace Tunnel, I wasn’t expecting to feel so much. It’s 2,200 feet long and carved straight through solid rock, 200 feet below ground. Most people walk it in ten or fifteen minutes. It took me twice as long. I couldn’t stop running my hands along the walls, brick by brick, thinking about what it took to build it, by hand.

That kind of ambition and sheer willpower is what I think about every day building Zvelle. You need the idea, but also the stamina to bring it to life. Especially when you’re pushing the technical limits, asking for things that haven’t been done before. I’ve learned to welcome that tension. If there’s no friction, the design probably isn’t worth making.

There’s something sacred about the tunnel. You can see the human effort in every crack, every worn surface, like a patina. It reminded me that true craft lasts.

Interpreting one of the most photographed places in Canada through my lens was deeply personal.

I’ve walked that tunnel many times now. I’m still moved by it.

Getting rare access to the Power Station’s control room, built in 1913, was a privilege for me and my team. It felt strangely familiar, the same feeling I have when I step into our workshop in Italy. A sacred space where everything is built with intention and nothing is left to chance.

The marble slabs, the machines, the switchboards, even the shade of green chosen for the walls all reminded me that the language of design is everywhere.

I’m often asked why I chose a power station to tell the story of the Lore sneaker. Sometimes you’re led by a vision, an instinct, and an obsession. You have no choice but to follow it through every detail until it reveals itself on the other side.

Very much like how the Lore was developed.

True power is creating from the deepest parts of who you are, what only you can see, feel, and express.